Zero
by Lord Kristine
Summary: A story of sickness and the failure of politics.


Zero Sipoka has been noticing a lot of changes lately. He's been observing them for a while, actually, but one day, he realized that these changes were signs of things to come, and not just a fad or trend. With each passing month, he saw more and more hatred. Different kinds of hatred, but all deriving from a specific source. Just when he thought it couldn't get any worse, he was proven wrong, and he was left wondering just how far rock bottom was. It happened every time. Like clockwork.

And then he noticed a change within himself, which indicated that he was not even close to his lowest point.

Zero wakes up one morning and lumbers into the bathroom. When he feels pain upon relieving himself, he looks down and sees a thin, red stream hitting the toilet bowl.

Even for a therizinosaurus, this is a bad sign.

He hears a howl.

***Z***

Hattie doesn't like America. The country itself is fine, she supposes, but she doesn't like the people in it, because they do not like her. Perhaps she's biased, since she had previously been under the impression that the citizens valued freedom and safety, but they constantly and consistently instruct her to return to her homeland, which would be a very bad idea, indeed. At first, she gave them the benefit of the doubt. After all, what decent person would force someone back to a land of sickness and poverty instead of sharing the country they took so much pride in? Well, humans. Humans would do that.

Hattie isn't sure she understands humans all that much, or at least not the American ones, but she tries her best to justify her misfortune by seeing the world through their eyes, going by what they do and not by what they say. There is an important distinction to be made there, since humans constantly parrot ideals relating to opportunity and equality, but their actions imply they wish to keep these things for themselves instead of all sentient creatures. Needless to say, Hattie isn't a fan of this idea, since she would very much appreciate the ability to exercise her human rights.

The title "human rights" is of course a biased term, but under the law, dinosaurs are considered human. In practice, it's different, and there's a great deal of people who would never consider Hattie even remotely human. She'd experienced people squawking at her in the streets and flapping their arms mockingly, which forced her to walk a little faster, and in doing so, bob her head unwillingly. This, of course, led to more teasing, which usually ended in slurs (most commonly "egg-thief"). Today is no different.

She hurries past a group of humans that often tease her on her way to work, refusing to hold up her wing to shield herself from the light rain. She notices something strange. Here, just before the halfway point in her journey, she is suddenly fatigued to the point where she feels like collapsing. Usually, she can make it to work without so much as a slight shortness of breath, but her built-for-running body appears to be out of fuel at the moment. She has been losing a lot of weight, come to think of it, and she wonders if this new symptom has something to do with it. When she puts two and two together, she speculates that something might be seriously wrong. Quickly, she banishes the thought from her mind and keeps walking.

She can't afford to be ill, at the moment.

***Z***

It was a mistake to submit to peer pressure, Benjamin Elisa discovers, because whatever was in that needle he stuck himself with a few weeks ago is making him sick. He's almost positive he has an infection, since the initial effects of his night of impulsivity have worn off already. He's reluctant to tell anyone, least of all his grandmother (whom he lives with), since this seems like one of those things adults warn you about, and he doesn't want to face an I-told-you-so. His primary concern is that he'll get worse and be forced to come clean. Alternately, he might be plagued with permanent side effects, though if he's being honest, he fears his grandmother more.

Anyway, he tries to tell himself that as long as he doesn't do it again, he'll recover. He's learned his lesson. That's enough. It's not worth sacrificing his safety to fit in with his peers, since he has basically no shot at popularity anyway, regardless of what he uses. He's only half human, and his other half is something called indricothere, according to his grandmother. He isn't sure what that's supposed to be, exactly, but he thinks it's some sort of horse, camel, or maybe even giraffe. He doesn't much look like any of those alone, but maybe combined with a hippo or elephant . . . Well, it doesn't matter, in the end. As long as he isn't human, he's pretty much on par with anyone else outside of that sphere. That's just the way it is.

He does have a vague idea that these problems are different from those of the average fourteen year old, however.

***Z***

Angelica is leaning on the brick wall behind her theatre, puffing on her third cigarette of the day and trying not to notice how people stare at her as they walk by. There are different types of gazes, she has discovered, ranging from awkward glances followed by avoidance (or a double take) to stares of disapproval, which she meets with matched hostility. Once, a man got close enough that she was able to blow smoke in his face, which felt good and bad, but mostly bad. Some of the attention she's getting makes her angry in a satisfying way, and she takes pleasure in speculating about the intense reactions of those who pass her. Clearly, they've never seen a cryolophosaurus before.

Clearly.

Anyway, her ride shows up thirty minutes late, and when she gets into the car, the man in the front seat gives her a too-wet kiss and drives her to their favorite restaurant.

Rather, the clinic next to it, since they'll be stopping there first.

***Z***

Sandra Helms is feeling dizzy more often than would be considered normal. She first noticed this when she poured her children two bowls of Cap'n Crunch and found she was nauseated by the way the pellets jumped and overlapped in her vision. She scheduled a visit with her doctor right away, then phoned her husband to let him know that they'd probably have to go over their insurance plan to make sure their coverage was up to date. His job has great benefits, though they haven't had to use them all that much. It isn't often that someone in the family gets sick, but it's better to be safe than sorry.

She dries the dishes and looks out the front window to make sure the school bus picks up her boys on time, and vaguely wonders if she caught this bug from one of her children and their dinosaur friends.

***Z***

After careful consideration, Zero decides to pay a visit to the doctor. Constant blood is severe enough to merit facing a large bill, and he might end up saving money if he nips this in the bud now. Of course, he'll still have hell to pay in a semi-literal sense.

He's not alone in the waiting room. Sitting across from him is a man with thick hair and a thick mustache, as well as a blue Spinosaurus. They seem to be together. Zero is reminded of a joke he heard the other day when he eavesdropped on a conversation in a bar. Someone brought up an incident where a Tyrannosaurus Rex ate a dog. The other person laughed and said that Spinosaurs were better known for doing that. It took Zero a while to get the joke, and when he did, he didn't find it very funny. Anyway, it made sharing the same space with a Spinosaurus more awkward than usual.

Unfortunately, the doctor can't figure out what's wrong with Zero. The bloody urine and other symptoms Zero displays don't seem to align with anything he should be afflicted with at this age, especially given his pristine medical history.

It's hard to say whether he's more upset about the inconclusive results or the fact that he will be receiving a bill regardless.

Something pads down the hall, nails clicking every now and then.

***Z***

After several weeks of confusion, Hattie discovers that her health is being undermined by a new disease, one which has only recently been discovered, and which still doesn't have a name. She hears people blaming her for bringing the illness to the mainland.

She wonders if this is how the first of her kind would feel if it knew its fossilized remains, draped over its own children protectively, would cause its genus to be called egg thieves.

***Z***

Benjamin sits alone at lunch. He has a small carton of milk and a brown bag with an apple-shaped lump near the base. He's not having a good day.

His teacher yelled at him for saying a swear word, which is exactly as juvenile of a situation as its description suggests. Somehow, adults must think children and teens are a different species. They apparently don't remember what it was like to be one, how the world is experienced through the eyes of youth. If they did, they'd realize that their techniques of discipline tend not to work. It's not that their reasoning is always wrong or misguided, but it simply can't change the minds of young people for a variety of reasons. For instance, swearing is the least of what Benjamin has done, and he's one of the cleanest students in his class. He's not sure why he's being scolded so much. It's not like the teacher cares about him or has a deep investment in his emotional development. In fact, it's quite the opposite. When he acts out, he's considered a nuisance, and disruptions must be purged for this reason. No one wants to make him a good person: they want him to stop being bad. Anything beyond that is just him excelling of his own accord, but they don't try to bring that excellence out of him. Why are these people even in their jobs? What makes them want to just sit there and tell him to be average, but not encourage him to be better than the bare minimum? Maybe they like to get paid. That's possible.

He really wishes someone actually gave a shit about his future.

***Z***

Angelica sits at a bar, thinking about her test results. She isn't sure what to do, so right now she's stuck doing nothing. She may continue this for quite some time, unless she finds a solution. That seems very unlikely. What's the point of trying? At the moment, cliché as it sounds, hope is futile.

"Hey, mister! You gonna order something?"

Angelica doesn't bother to correct the bartender. She shrugs and runs her paw over her nasal crest.

"I need a cocktail, but I'm not sure I can afford it."

"So?"

"So give me a beer."

"Whatever helps, right?"

She sighs.

"Right."

***Z***

It's worse than Sandra thought. This isn't just a cold: it's a severe infection. She didn't want to believe it, at first, because of how she theoretically came to catch it. But now she knows the truth.

It's no wonder her husband is always so late coming home.

***Z***

"You've been a good patient, Zero," the doctor says, "But I'm afraid there's nothing more I can do for you. I've recommended a solution, and it appears to be the only one available to you."

"But I can't afford it!" Zero protests, "How is that an option if I can't realistically choose it?!"

"I'm sorry. I don't know what to tell you."

Zero leaves the clinic feeling worse, both physically and emotionally. He was told that everyone had the right to live. Nobody mentioned that the continuous state of _not dying_ wasn't guaranteed as well.

Shadows circle him.

***Z***

Hattie is not doing well. She was fired because of her inability to keep up with her workload. She's been bleeding all over and coughing like crazy, so it's not like it was really do-able in the first place. And she's not alone. She sees sick people every day, and they're multiplying fast. Strangely, the infected tend to be dinosaurs, with the odd human thrown in every now and then. Due to the majority of cases showing up in dinosaurs, a stigma has developed. Hattie almost throws up when she hears a new slogan.

They say the bug is killing all the right people.

***Z***

It has become impossible for Benjamin to conceal his sickness. He looks like a leather tent that was clumsily draped over a set of bones. His limbs are twiggy and his cheeks have a jagged shape to them. His grandmother says he's sallow, though he's not sure what that means, exactly.

Anyway, the truth comes out, and when his classmates realize what he's afflicted with, they won't come within a few feet of him. They even refuse to sit on a bench he occupied the day prior.

All in all, he's feeling very alone, and it's much worse than before.

***Z***

Angelica has taken to protesting. She didn't think of herself as the kind of dinosaur who made a point of being in-your-face (not politically, anyway), but now she has a cause to fight for. She's been concerned with many things, but never so urgently. Her time is running out.

Unfortunately, neither talking nor writing nor pleading nor shouting seems to get the attention of the people who could potentially save her life. She is sinking in tar while her saviors sit smoking beside the pit, waiting for her screaming to stop.

***Z***

Sandra is taking medication. It helps, but nothing cures the shame of her predicament.

***Z***

Zero's boyfriend has left him.

That's all there is to say about that.

He feels hot panting on his legs occasionally.

***Z***

Hattie's cough gets worse one day. When she crumples up and falls over in the street, she realizes that this could be it. Finally, The Moment has come. She's been waiting for The Moment since she first got sick, but it's shocking, nonetheless.

They rush her to the hospital.

***Z***

Benjamin attends a support group. He's the youngest one there. He doesn't feel comfortable sitting in a circle comprised of middle-aged adults with major issues. It makes him feel like he's ruined his life prematurely. He's not a fan of the looks he gets, either. People treat him like he's some poor, lost lamb.

Honestly, he wouldn't be surprised if he was part sheep.

***Z***

Angelica knows that pepper spray isn't really liquid pepper, but part of her mind- the childish, whimsical part- somehow expects the mist to feel spicy.

It's not spicy.

It's agonizing.

***Z***

Sandra doesn't know how to tell her children she's sick. One morning, she considers revealing her secret, but she decides not to send them to school with such dark thoughts.

All they need to know is that Mommy has a cold.

***Z***

Zero listens to the growling. Sometimes, he raises his unbelievably long claws in warning, though he's not positive they're all that useful in combat. He can feel something drawing near, though he's not sure what his attackers look like. All he knows is that his friends have neglected to appear in recent weeks, and that the shadows are to blame. People are dropping off the face of the earth one by one.

The growling hasn't stopped.

***Z***

Benjamin has had a fight with his grandmother. She yelled at him for hours, calling him a stupid boy, and he tossed around a few insults, himself. He doesn't remember if he used "old bag", but it's possible. Maybe the phrase is just stuck in his mind.

That night, he lies in bed, crying into a moonlit pillow. He stops when he hears his grandmother sobbing in the room next to his, then continues his task in silence.

***Z***

Angelica walks down the street, wondering if people are staring at her because she's sickly, or for the usual reasons. She feels out of place. Before, she was comfortable in her position as an outcast. Well, maybe not _comfortable_ , but she was rebellious, and that was _almost_ comforting. She didn't want to be part of the society that despised her (that's what she told herself), but now she's just not sure.

How can things become so complicated in the blink of an eye?

***Z***

Sandra's boys are waiting on the sidewalk near the playground. They stand by the fence that borders the school parking lot, then sit on the curb when they get tired of pacing. Other children pass them, and cars leave the area one by one. Still, the siblings wait.

Their mother is lying on the driveway, groceries scattered across the concrete beside her outstretched arms. There is a pool of blood under hear head. It drips into a puddle of spilled yogurt.

***Z***

Half of the time, Zero can't tell if he's awake, asleep, or somewhere in between. He's constantly in pain, though his agony becomes ever so slightly duller at times. It's like the difference between pushing a knife into his gut and an open wound sans-knife. He's not sure he can take it much longer.

He used to tell himself that no matter how much pain he was in, he'd never ask to be put out of his misery, because physical pain exists in the moment, and even if he thinks he can't overcome it, once he's on the other side, he'll look back and be grateful that he decided to extend his life.

This pain is different. In all likelihood, he will not live through it.

Something snaps at his heels, and he starts running.

***Z***

Benjamin's grandmother is sick. Not the same kind of sick he is, but sick nonetheless. He suspects this affliction is partly his fault in some way, since she's been under a lot of stress keeping him alive and supporting him as much as humanly possible. He fears for her health more than his own. She's old, which means even the mildest of colds could result in her death.

They have that in common, now.

***Z***

Angelica is once again in deep trouble. This time, it's not because of a protest. She gave that up like the coward she is, but that doesn't make her any less vulnerable to the hatred of mankind, which she belongs to, and in another sense, used to belong to. Not that she truly belonged, per se, but that's all semantics.

She's walking home from work one night when she hears footsteps behind her. Lots of them. Nothing good can come from a group wandering about _this_ late in _this_ neighborhood.

She walks a little faster.

So does the group.

She breaks into a sprint.

They do too.

Too weak to flee or fight, Angelica's saurian features are of little use now. She's being bested by a group of useless, fleshy humans. There's a struggle, and shouting. She hears words without knowing what's being said, only registering the fact that on some plane, what's coming out of their mouths must make sense.

She's kneeling on the ground with her arms being forcefully held above her head.

They kick her.

They kick and kick.

And kick and kick.

And kick until it's over.

***Z***

Zero is no longer running. He's speeding down the road in his junky, twenty-year-old car, but it hasn't stopped his pursuers. They follow him wherever he goes, never slowing nor losing focus. He cannot escape, no matter how hard he tries.

He doesn't realize that they're not coming for him.

On the corner of the block, a large hybrid falls to his knees under a street lamp, clutching a crumpled-up bus ticket in his left hand. Zero slams his foot on the brakes, then leaps out of his car immediately without shutting the door. When he turns the body over, he sees the face of a young boy, probably under fifteen, and by the looks of it, he's at least half prehistoric mammal. He's barely breathing.

Zero phones an ambulance, then sits by the boy, telling him that help is on the way. He repeats the same empty words over and over again. He's beginning to think that his message isn't registering, but the hybrid turns his head slightly and gazes up at his savior with a bloodshot eye. The other eye is not visible at this angle.

"My grandmother can't afford a trip to the hospital."

Zero glances over his shoulder.

"Where is she? Are we close to your house?"

"Almost. The bus wouldn't take me. Driver thought I might spread it. Please, bring me home."

"We have to make sure you're okay first. I'm sure your grandmother would want you to get treatment. You need it."

"I know, and she does. But we can't pay for it. It's just not possible."

"You can't deny yourself basic needs."

"Why not? There's a cost to living. We pay for food, water, shelter . . ."

"Son, you're dying."

"What's it to you? You don't know me."

"Everyone has the right to live."

"Rights don't mean much when you have to pay for them. We're not as equal as we think."

"Be that as it may, tonight is not the night you die. Just sit tight and wait for the professionals to fix you up."

The boy props himself up on his elbow.

"I'm fine. I can get home. This is a waste of time."

"Well, it doesn't seem like you have a lot of time left."

Zero pulls his head back when he notices blood dripping from the corner of the boy's mouth.

"You got a lung infection?"

"Bit my lip."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, when I fell."

Zero can't decide whether he's lying or not, but it doesn't matter, anyway. He'll be in a hospital soon. Theoretically.

Zero looks around.

"Where are the ambulances?"

"Did you tell them I wasn't human?"

"Yes."

"They're probably taking their time, then."

Zero frowns.

"Kid, these people are professionals. There's nothing in their system saying we'll get treated last."

"Why's it happening, then? Come on, Mister. I'm young, but I'm not stupid. You think I'm going to believe in their charity when I'm seeing none of it?"

"Things will get better."

"That's just a comforting lie. Don't treat me like glass. You know just as well as I do that something ain't right here. You're an adult, and you're scared shitless."

"You don't know me."

"I know you're sick like I am. When you're sick, you're scared. Why the hell aren't we getting better, huh?"

Zero frowns.

"You said it yourself. We can't afford it."

"And _you_ said they'd be here by now. I'm guessing you're not having much luck with treatment either."

"Lots of people can't afford to get better."

"Yeah, but at least some people get pity. Me, I just get dirty looks."

Zero leans back and folds his claws over his knees.

"Where are those damn ambulances? . . ."

"They may never come."

"They will."

"Not for us. We'll be dead by then. There are no healers in the world, because nobody's being healed."

"Someone's being healed."

"Not us."

"No, not us."

Zero pauses for a moment, then looks up at the cloudy night sky.

"You know, we're alive."

"Not for long."

"But we're alive. And we're here. And we understand each other."

"We only just met."

"I know, but we're the same, you and I. You're right: I'm scared shitless, and the only reason I'm being brave is because I thought you needed comforting, but you know as well as I do that we're both fucked."

"I thought you said we're alive."

"Yeah, but as you so aptly pointed out, we won't be for long."

The boy illustrates this point perfectly by hacking like he's about to force out both lungs. More blood drips down the side of his chin, but he wipes it away quickly.

"Shut up. I just bit my lip harder, that's all."

"Right."

They sit in silence. Zero is listening for an ambulance, but he's beginning to think that the boy is right about no one coming. They're alone now. They might stay that way. No one's coming, and no one's coming back. They may as well be the last two people on Earth. It's cold, dark, and lonely. Zero doesn't even have the strength to be upset about it. That's just the way the world is right now. He wishes he knew how long it was until sunrise.

Another fit of coughing interrupts his thoughts. The boy isn't looking too good. Zero hears sirens, but the noise grows distant and is replaced by growling. He feels the shadows circling him once more.

"No . . ."

They advance. Fangs drip with blood. Claws scrape across wet concrete. Zero tightens his grip around the failing child.

"I won't let this happen. I'll fight you."

No one is close enough to hear him, or to know what's going on. But the shadows advance.

Whatever happened after that was lost, like many tragedies that remain unwitnessed and unrecorded. Some details remain. Benjamin did not see the light of dawn, and Zero did not survive to see the following sunset. Nevertheless, there were others like them that would not fade into obscurity, and though there was much fighting and clawing and biting and death, there was always at least one person who kept the hope alive. And that one person would become two, which would become three, and so on. Through happy days and times when it seemed like all hope was lost, the battle continued in some form.

As for whether it was won, I can't say.

It's still being fought.


End file.
